


Dramaturgy

by HelloYellowJello



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mental Instability, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Virtual Reality, this is not a happy story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 19:25:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14817428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelloYellowJello/pseuds/HelloYellowJello
Summary: The curtain is closed, and yet theliarsactors still play their roles.“That’s… you’re lying, right?”“Half of my lies are told out of kindness, you know.”"You're right, it's a lie."It had been a few months since it ended. The things that Saihara Shuichi knew of himself were that he was a third year male student and that he loved Akamatsu Kaede.A story of desperation, longing, hate, guilt, and self-discovery.





	Dramaturgy

**Author's Note:**

> A story that's born from [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14498463). English is not my mother language, and I don't have a betareader (because I'm a newbie). So please feel free to point out any spelling/grammar mistakes!
> 
> This story will (most likely) be a long ride, and I WILL complete this. Hopefully before any new Danganronpa game comes out.

Saihara Shuichi looked up at the bright blue sky, no bars nor cage between him and the sky. Beside him, Harukawa and Yumeno also looked up at the sky with awe.

They were alive. Even though they prepared to throw away their life to end this sick, twisted game, they were still alive.

“Let’s go.” Saihara turned towards the two girls with a small smile. They nodded and walked with him to the edge of the destroyed end wall in sight.

Saihara let his smile dimmed. There should be sixteen

_fifteen, not counting Shirogane._

_fourteen, not counting Shinguji-kun._

_thirteen, not counting Ouma-kun._

_Wait, no._ Saihara remembered the fifth trial, of what Momota had and what Ouma left behind.

A script with branching routes and many plans of convoluted suicides.

A will that was given to them amidst blueprints and calculations to end the killing game.

Even before those, he had tried to help them in his own, unhelpful way.

He didn’t know about the Hope’s Peak Academy History Book, but the fact that they found it inside Ouma’s lab was not lost on thr detective.

_What did that mean?_ Saihara’s lips curled into a frown. _Was that according to Team Danganronpa’s will? Is this ending… is what they aim for?_

“Saihara, what’s wrong?”

Harukawa’s eyebrows were pinched as he looked at her. He shook his head. “Nothing, I’m just thinking about something.”

“Nyeh, don’t think about hard stuffs.” Yumeno commented next to him. “If you want, I can cast a be-happy spell on you!”

“No, I’m good.”

_That’s right. For now, I should think about what we should do to survive the outside world. I can think about other things later._

Saihara should be grateful enough that at least three of them were still alive and free.

It was bright.

“Hu-Huh?!” Saihara looked around. One moment he was walking with his friends and the next thing he knew he was _here._

Everything around him was white. No sky, no ground, no trees, no destroyed building, no Harukawa and no Yumeno.

There was nothing.

Empty.

As he opened his mouth to shout for _anyone, anything_ to answer him, he—

 

 

 

 

 

He _remembered_.

* * *

Saihara was dreaming.

He dreamed of warmth and pink, gentle melodies weaving in the air. ~~He dreamed of desperation and failure, of jarring melodies with a pendulum swaying on top of a piano.~~

He dreamed of heat and purple, starry night sky over him and green grass under his hand. ~~He dreamed of tears and failure, of blood and a spaceship that went deeper into the earth.~~

_(He dreamed of white and black and other shade of purple, of fake smiles and even faker laughs dancing around truths and lies—)_

_~~(He dreamed of tears and loneliness—)~~ _

Saihara opened his eyes.

The dull ceiling of his room was the first thing he saw.

He dimly realized that his alarm clock was still beeping. He reached out a hand to turn it off. As the incessant sound stopped, he sat up from his bed. He glanced at the bedside clock.

_6.10 am._

It was enough time to prepare for school. His hand automatically reached for his smartphone on the bedside table ~~to check if there was an update to Danganronpa~~.

His hand stilled.

He didn’t need to check his phone.

He stood up from his bed and get ready to shower. Even though ( _or maybe because_ ) he didn’t get a restful sleep last night, his body didn’t feel sluggish at all. ~~Even though he got to see her again~~

When he came out of the room, the muted sound of television drifted to his ears. Saihara Kazuya was already sitting on the dining table, his back turned towards Saihara. Judging by how his neck tilted slightly to the table and the position of his hands on the table, it looked like he was reading something, most probably a letter or a book.

He decided to not bother his uncle.

He went to the bathroom, and robotically ( _heh_ ) did his morning routines. Took off his clothes, turned on the warm water, stepped into the water, and then washed his body and hair. He could do all of them with his eyes closed, easy.

As his hands and body moved automatically with the motions, he did some thinking to distract him from the boredom ~~and from what he dreamed of last night~~.

He had already done his homework last night. He also had prepared his bag for today. There were no tests or quizzes, at least not one that had been informed by the teachers. There’s no new book he wanted to buy. For lunch, he wanted to buy a bread, or something.

~~He wondered how she was doing~~

Preferably a fulfilling one like _yakisoba_ bread. Although a melon bread was fine too.

~~He couldn’t help but also thought of him~~

After school, he had a promise to go with his classmates to the arcade.

~~He wanted to see her and hear her and talk to her~~

What else… what else.That’s right, he also need to—to go to—or buy something—

(God, he missed her.)

_Dammit._

“Shuichi?” Kazuya’s voice jolted him to awareness. He sounded close. Was he in front of the bathroom? “Are you done yet?”

Saihara straightened up. He ~~didn’t~~ realize that he was hunching himself to the wall (nor did he realize that his breath had quickened up). “Yes! In a minute!”

_In. Out. In. Out._

He hurriedly finished his shower and dried his body. He brushed his teeth in record time.

_Don’t think about her. Don’t think about ~~him~~ her._

He quickly went to his room to put on the school uniform (he missed his old one, _~~wait no, that’s not his~~ _ it _is_ his) that was hung on the wall. He put on his uniform. A dress shirt, a pair of dark trousers, a blue-striped tie, a pair of black socks, the school blazer—

and lastly, his hat.

He lowered the brim of his hat, narrowing his view. The black cap with a star on it was his favorite out of all his collection, so he ~~was glad that Team Danganronpa recreated it~~ liked to wear it everyday now ~~to remind him of his time in the Killing Game~~.

_Stop._ He didn’t need to remember it. Saihara clutched the brim tighter with his right hand. “I need to eat.”

He grabbed his school bag from the desk and went out of his room. His uncle was already back on his seat. But rather than reading whatever it was that he read before, now he’s eating a toast with his eyes glued to the TV. “Good morning, Uncle.”

“Good morning, Shuichi.” His uncle smiled lightly as Saihara sat on the other side of the table. He took one of the stacked toasts in the middle of the table. With his other hand, he grabbed the butter knife and smeared his toast. He turned his head to the television.

It was only news about the birth of a baby panda in the national zoo.

~~At least it’s not about a hunt or asteroids falling to the earth~~

He ate his bread in less than a minute. “I’m off.”

His uncle only looked up and smiled. (His smile never looked genuine or cheerful now, not after Season 53.) “Be careful. And don’t forget your scarf. Even though it’s spring, it’s still cold out there.”

He knew better than to force Saihara to eat more or to take his medicine.

Not that he needed them.

_I’m fine._ Saihara returned the smile, (just as forced and tight as his uncle was). He stood up from his seat. “Okay.”

He walked to the _genkan_ to put on his shoes, just like usual. He didn’t say any greeting when he opened the front door of the apartment.

None of them said anything about the lack of scarf and jacket on Saihara’s body.

It wasn’t that cold, anyway. (After all, Saihara knew that his friends felt colder than the wind as they breathed their last breath.)

_~~He~~ _ ~~would probably felt the coldest out of all of them, lying with a bare back on a hydraulic press with poison coursing in his body, alone with no one to love him.~~

No matter the beginning of his day was, Saihara would continue his day, just like usual. His ~~boring, mundane~~ routine that he didn’t want to break from the end of summer last year.

_His demise was his own fault._ That’s what Saihara ~~wanted to feel~~ believed.

He closed the door.

_Rinse and repeat._

* * *

It has been six hours since he opened his eyes.

It had been six minutes since he woke up.

He was still waking up.

He knew that the Killing Game was a demented reality show.

_But I didn’t know that the Killing Game was only a simulator._

_Wait, that’s wrong. I_ do _remember about the virtual reality._ After all, it was a common knowledge amongst fans. He even signed a waiver that stated that he agreed to be put in a simulator pod for an extended period of time.

He looked towards his hand. He flexed it up and down. Considering he had been unconscious for almost a month, his body was in a good condition. Even though he felt weak, he could move his body well. His muscle wasn’t even atrophied. The care that Team Danganronpa gave them while they were unconscious was thorough,

It reminded him of the explanation that was given to them before they went into the pod. Apparently, their nerves system was connected to their simulated selves so their nerves wouldn’t lock up. Of course when they died their nerve receptions was lowered so they didn’t feel any pain.

For that, he was glad.

Man, the new technology that Team Danganronpa had was amazing.

He shouldn’t feel happy about that, right.

But he couldn’t help himself not to be ecstatic by all of this. Everything only happened in a simulated world. All of his friends were alive, he won Danganronpa ( _as the protagonist, even!_ ), so everything should be fine.

_I didn’t win_ against _Danganronpa_.

In the end, Danganronpa won it all.

_What did he even struggle for?_ ( _At least this season was interesting._ )

The click of the door broke his line of thought ( _thank god for that_ ). He raised his head just in time to see a doctor and a nurse came into his room. He met them when he first opened his eye.

The nurse offered him a glass of water as the doctor checked the monitor that displayed his vital. He was fine.

Geez, he didn’t realize he was parched until the water passed his throat. “Saihara-kun, how do you feel?”

He licked his lips. “Fine.” For the first word that came out of his mouth since he woke up, it was painfully dull. “How is everyone?”

“Harukawa-san and Yumeno-san are fine. Shirogane-san and Iidabashi-kun hasn’t woken up yet, but they will be.”

_By Iidabashi…does he mean Kiibo-kun?_ He remembered that Kiibo’s creator’s name was Iidabashi. So it was from his real last name. Was Kiibo his real name too? Of course not. After all, his name was a pun from _hope._

“The others have been sent home a few days after they woke up, but now they’re here to watch the season’s finale.”

His heart leaped to his throat. “Everyone? Even Akamatsu-san and Momota-kun?”

The doctor nodded. “I want to talk to them.”

_What? Why?_ He blinked his eyes incredulously. _Of course I want to meet them. They’re important to me. I_ need _to see them._

But the doctor’s face was hesitant. “Do you remember about the memory insertion procedure?”

“Yes.” He straightened up. “I-I know. Only the—“ _(what were they again? Winners or—)_ “ _survivors_ retain their memories from the simulator.”

The doctor nodded again. Could he do anything except nodding? “That’s right. By retaining their memories from the simulator, the survivors will gain knowledge of their respective talents. Of course if it’s physical talent it won’t translate to your body until you trained it.”

He knew about it. That’s why many high schoolers auditioned to participate in Danganronpa. Not only for the money prize, but also for the talent that they could gain by winning.

By dying in the simulator, they lost all the memories and knowledge that were implanted in their brain.

The doctor shifted his clipboard awkwardly. “As you understand it, Team Danganronpa replicates the original’s memory to fit the character’s background. But in the end, their history in game is not the same as it is in real life. You… ah, you’ve seen them before, right?”

Did the doctor mean the videos that Shirogane showed them at the last class trial?

That didn’t mean that Akamatsu’s and Momota’s audition videos were real.

Even though his was real, he wished theirs weren’t.

And even if they were _indeed_ true, he still needed to verify it by himself. He didn’t truly know how much they might differ from their simulator counterparts. Maybe the difference was miniscule enough that he wouldn’t realize it.

It could be big enough that they felt like strangers, but thinking of possibilities like that without any evidence was only reaching blindly.

Most importantly, he had promised to himself, to Akamatsu, and to his friends that he wouldn’t avert his eyes from the truth.

( _Wow, he sounded like a protagonist._ )

“At least let me see them.”

The doctor sighed softly. “Fine. Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.” The doctor gestured to the nurse. “Please ask Akamatsu-san and Momota-kun to come here.”

He slumped back into the bed. He only watched as the doctor and the nurse checked him for the last time before they went out of the room.

Now that he would meet with both of them again, he didn’t know what to do. Nervous was an understatement about what he felt at that moment. There were so many things he wanted to say to them he didn’t know if he could convey all of them.

He wanted to ask Akamatsu if she was okay, if she forgave him for sending her to her death.

He wanted to tell her that he tried very hard to grant her last wish.

He wanted to ask Momota if he was okay, if he forgave him for condemning him to his deathbed.

He wanted to tell him that he did it, that he lived because of him.

Even though it only happened in the simulator, he wanted to thank them for saving him.

The door opened. Saihara straightened up. His heart was beating so loud it drowned his whisper. “Akamatsu-san?”

When the girl came in, he _knew._

She was Akamatsu Kaede, yet she’s also not Akamatsu Kaede.

Not the Akamatsu Kaede that he knew—not the Akamatsu that he met in the killing game, not the one that lead everyone with her passion, not the one who encouraged everyone to keep living, not the one that held his hand gently and gave him confidence in the sunset-lit classroom.

Not the one that sacrificed herself for everyone’s sake.

Her physical attributes were the same. Her long, blonde hair was as shiny as it was before. She was still as beautiful as he remembered her to be ( _god, how long ago did he last see her?_ ). She was everything he wanted in a girl.

But there was something wrong, something foreign in her expression. Her smile, bright and inviting as the bright summer sun, was now touched over with something cold. Her eyes, warm and passionate as a burning star, were now frozen over into a white dwarf.

As if she looked at a stranger.

“Good to see you awake, Saihara-kun.”

“Akamatsu…san?”

Akamatsu sat at the chair next to the bed and tucked her hair behind her ear. She was wearing a casual shirt and pants, not the uniform that he knew. It looked good on her.

“Momota-kun is visiting Harukawa-san now, I’ll tell him to visit you when he’s done.”

“Ah, I see.”

Of course, of course Momota would visit Harukawa first. He was the one who dragged Harukawa from her shell. Not only that, the last time they met was when Harukawa tearfully confessed to him. Momota must have wanted to clarify their relationship now that they were alive.

At least, that’s what Momota would do if he retained his memories.

He wanted Akamatsu to remember as well—to remember about their time together.

“Congratulations on winning the game.”

The illusion that maybe, _maybe_ , Akamatsu remembered shattered.

“Yeah, thanks.”

He hated how he automatically responded it with that. He loathed how his mouth automatically curled up. There was a part of him that felt giddy that _holy shit, he’s a Danganronpa survivor_ and he didn’t want to feel that.

“How is everyone?”

“Except Ouma-kun, Shirogane-san, and Kiibo-kun, everyone’s awake.”

_Wait, what?_ “Ouma-kun?”

She averted her eyes from him. “He’s in a coma.”

Dread washed over his body. _What do you mean, he’s in a coma?_

He didn’t know he asked that out loud if she didn’t answer. “You know that he used the Electrobomb in the hangar when he’s killed by Momota-kun, right? Apparently, it also disabled the surveillance cameras, so they didn’t cut his nerve system from the simulation in time or whatever… Well, that’s the gist of it.”

He… didn’t know what to feel by that. On one hand, he pitied Ouma for being in that predicament. But on the other hand, he was glad that Ouma was _in_ that predicament.

It was also Ouma’s own fault—the contract that they signed was clear that under no circumstances were they allowed to cut the feed and that Team Danganronpa wouldn’t be held responsible if anything happened to the players in that period of time.

(But it wasn’t his fault that he died.)

Frankly, he didn’t want to know what kind of person Ouma was outside the game. That liar must be even more awful in real life (maybe). “I see.”

The girl only nodded before she crossed her arms. He could see her determination in her posture. “Look, I’ll cut straight to the point, okay?” Her face showed a familiar scowl. “I don’t like you.”

His heart stopped.

“…What?”

She sighed and put a hand to her temple in a familiar gesture (he’d seen it many times before). “We’re only promoted as a pairing, there’s no real feeling in it, you know? It’s only emotions that were planted by Team Danganronpa. So… don’t go chase after me, or something.”

He didn’t say anything to that. He knew about that. (Danganronpa liked its’ pairings. It was to be expected that there would be couples formed inside the game to make it more entertaining.) But it’s not.

_For me, it’s not just that._

_It’s real._

For him, his feelings to her were true.

It’s not a lie or a fabrication.

He knew that.

He wanted to say ‘thank you’, ‘I wanted to meet you’ or ‘I missed you’—even maybe an ‘I like you’.

But before he could say anything in response to the girl, she already stood up.

“Well, if it counts, I think you’re a cool protagonist, even though you’re a little boring.” _Her smile, was it a smile, it looked more like a smirk_ “But if Danganronpa stops after this, I’m gonna sue you and Ouma-kun.”

Saihara wanted her to stay, but he wanted her to go away. He hated her, how she ruined Akamatsu in his memories and in the game (and in his heart), but he didn’t.

He didn’t hate her. He liked her.

He loved her.

_‘I love you_ ’

“Well, there’s an after-party going on right now, so if you feel up to it, feel free to join us.” With a wave and a (not) familiar smile, the girl left the room.

In the end, he couldn’t say anything to that unknown girl.

Saihara Shuchi loved Akamatsu Kaede, that was a fact.

He was Saihara Shuichi.

He was Saihara Shuichi, a normal student who lived with his uncle, a police detective. His father and mother were a scriptwriter and an artist, both really well-known. He spent his days browsing the internet and participated in forums.

He was Saihara Shuichi, a student-detective who lived with his uncle, a private detective. His father and mother worked overseas for their company, both were only employees. He spent his days helping his uncle solving cases and reading books.  

He was Saihara Shuichi, who loved Danganronpa.

He was Saihara Shuichi who wanted to live in Danganronpa. He was also Saihara Shuichi who didn’t want to live as a fictional character.

He was Saihara Shuichi, who hated Danganronpa.

Who was Saihara Shuichi, exactly?

 

 

 

He was none of them. He was both of them. He was

_~~(who?)~~ _


End file.
